


Your Soothing Universe

by greenleaf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Falling In Love, Fluff, Introspection, Light Angst, M/M, Pack Feels, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:59:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22333018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenleaf/pseuds/greenleaf
Summary: Derek found few things right and many things wrong in every passing day. The other male didn’t. So Derek tried his best to not be a downer. After a while, Derek realized there was only one thing – one person – right in his life, and every day just seemed right because of that.(Derek reflects on his relationship with and feelings for a certain male.)
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 8
Kudos: 182





	Your Soothing Universe

**Author's Note:**

> If I had to describe this in one word, I’d call it… well, melancholic, really. I hope the story still pleases. 
> 
> I also experimented a little on the writing style. I hope it works.
> 
> Somewhat inspired by an oldie but a goodie, ‘I Could Be the One’ by Donna Lewis.

Derek felt the involuntary tug at the corner of his lip, couldn’t stop it even if he tried. It was automatic. He didn’t even have to think of it. The other male smiled wider and bounced off to bother the others. He didn’t bother Derek so much because he knew Derek didn’t like getting too much attention, so he usually settled for trying to get a smile instead. Derek wished he could keep his poker face for more than two seconds, just so the other wouldn’t leave too fast.

Derek hated the train, the bus, and most forms of public transportation. They were cramped, people stared at him, and his wolf cringed at the smells, the sounds, and the way the train stopped with an ear-splitting screech. But when Erica, Isaac, and a certain young man dragged him along to ride the train to another one of their hangouts – blatantly ignoring the fact that Derek actually owned a car of his own – Derek gave in, bought their tickets with his own money, and didn’t nag at them when they spend the time pretending to be secret agents who must keep their identities a secret, not with a certain someone enjoying himself so much.

Derek loved the rain. It reminded him of the fresh and renewed smell of nature, of thunder so strong it rocked his bones, of streaks of lightning that cast everything in a pure glow, and bittersweet memories of wolf runs in the rain with his family long gone. But he wondered why he always gave in so easily to the younger man, heedless of his own fragile human constitution, who danced and flailed under a spring shower with a bounce in his step, who sat on their balcony chin up to catch the raindrops on his tongue, and who smiled at Derek when he did the same.

Derek found few things right and many things wrong in every passing day. The other male didn’t. So Derek tried his best to not be a downer. After a while, Derek realized there was only one thing – one person – right in his life, and every day just seemed right because of that.

Derek was only half-surprised when a certain someone stomped right out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

“You should have given it to him,” Scott said, neither him nor Jackson looking up from their Wii game; neither did Boyd, as he kept on with his reading.

“No, Derek shouldn’t have,” Lydia scoffed, hands clutching the rare Augustian Bestiary close to her chest. “Because I called dibs first. He can read it after I’m done with it.”

“In about three months,” Boyd muttered, referring to the book’s rather thick spine. Lydia just smirked triumphantly at that.

Derek rolled his eyes at them all. He grabbed his backpack, careful of the objects inside, then walked off, heading straight for the guest bedroom closest to his own master bedroom. It wasn’t locked, but Derek knocked and waited to be let inside. A soft thud signaled permission.

A figure was laying tummy down on the bed. Derek looked down to see his pillow on the floor, obviously thrown across the room by the young man busy tinkering with his phone. Derek sat down on the floor and unzipped his bag, before slowly pulling out the contents one by one. The other didn’t even look at him.

A good friend of Derek’s late parents had dropped by and gifted Derek with several rare and important tomes, reading materials that had caused quite the tug of war between the two resident geniuses of their pack.

Derek laid down three books one beside the other and waited. A few moments later, the male on the bed turned to him, to which Derek held up a fourth book. There was a pout, before the male bounded off the bed and down on the floor in front of him, eyes finally lightning up as he saw the much larger and rarer collection Derek had for him.

Somebody might have called dibs on one book, but Derek already called dibs for someone for the rest of the collection.

Derek was forgiven.

Everyone agreed that Derek worried too much for someone his age. He was just one big ball of stress – for packmates and a found family he never wanted to suffer or come to harm, for a long-lost family he wanted to honor, for a territory he wanted to protect, for an Emissary and a potential Mate he wanted to be with forever. It came from his mind, from himself, from the inner Derek who wanted to be better, who recalled all the memories of his failures and shortcomings. So he trained and scouted and trained some more. He fought and ran patrol and fought some more, even if he had to do it himself, or most especially if he could do it himself to spare the others.

Months passed and the pack grew stronger, but Derek’s worries only grew with it. He worried about Scott and Jackson’s constant bickering and bullheadedness, about keeping Lydia’s genius stimulated, on keeping Allison’s heritage from taking over her, on being a good example and guardian for Boyd, Isaac, and Erica, on keeping a certain someone interested and safe and happy, always, _always_.

“Stop worrying.”

Derek’s response was immediate. “I can’t.”

The other looked at him through bangs sweaty from training. He swiped away the sweat on his forehead and got ready to spar again.

“I worry about it all too, you know.”

It was just a whisper, but Derek caught it. He stood across the other male, in position, before they began to spar. It was four minutes of intense swerve and hold, minutes of catching each other’s eyes, minutes of that electricity between them, minutes when Derek didn’t worry, only felt and moved.

They paused, chest heaving and hearts and heads lighter.

A smile. “I’ll worry with you if you want, Der. At least with me, you’ll have one less person to worry about.”

“You don’t have to be so strong all the time.”

The words didn’t surprise Derek. It’s the fact that the other male actually said it. Derek thought of ignoring him, seated on the balcony of the pack house as he did so, watching the sun set on a day so similar and yet so different from the day decades past when Derek lost _everything_ to raging fire, choking smoke, and a woman’s cruel laughter.

“I have to be,” he said, always unable to answer to that voice.

“I know there’s nothing I can do to make it stop hurting,” the other male said, gentle hands and comforting arms sliding around Derek’s neck and a warm chest pressing against his back. “But you don’t have to be so strong. Not all the time.”

Derek turned his head, saw the other’s solemn gaze, noticed a few figures peeking in from the doorway with expressions of worry and concern, or hiding both.

When Derek finally folded into himself, pressing shaky hands to his eyes, he heard the thud of running steps, felt several bodies, and tight embraces, and comforting whispers. But a presence was solid and warm and steady against his back.

The other hummed softly against his ear.

“It’s going to be just fine, Derek. We’re here. _I’m_ here.”

Derek looked up at the chipped ceiling of the bathroom. His legs were stretched out in front of him, hands lying across his knees. His back was pressed against the side of the bathtub, his head lolling back to rest on nothing.

Images ran through his head. Knowing eyes. Lips stretched into a warm smile. Swan-like neck. Sinful collar bones. A starburst of beauty marks. Sinewy figure. Awkwardly graceful moves. Constant laughs. Endless questions. Quiet confidence. Light touches on his arm or back. Wide eyes that looked at him with trust. Mocking laughter that made Derek laugh too. Mischievousness at a prank that went off without a hitch.

Everything. Everything. _Everything._

Derek felt a warmth in his chest and he knew he was smiling like an idiot. He rubbed his sweaty face with chapped fingers and then stood up, zipping up his pants.

He walked out into the living room, fresh and clean, no traces of previous activities, and saw a spot beside the male nobody else took, because that spot was just for Derek. He sat down. Excited eyes swiveled to him and hands grasped his forearm as the male talked about the movie they were going to watch.

Derek listened contentedly to the other’s wild story. The other male was so excited he didn’t notice Derek’s thumb rubbing gently against his fingers. He kept his rampant emotions of want under wraps, smiling at the lovely face before him.

Derek didn’t mind how close Stiles was to other people, how many friends he had, or who they were, or how smart or talented or rich or excellent they were. He didn’t mind his and Scott’s long history of brotherhood and familiarity, of Lydia’s intellectual conversations, of Jackson’s fond bickering, or how Erica always spent time with him looking for places to hang out and terrorize, or how Isaac always clung to him with warm hugs and smiles, or how Boyd could be his silent self around him as they spend hours talking about nothing and yet everything.

Because despite all those people, despite the trust and love they all had for one another as pack members and family, Derek knew _he_ was the one Stiles trusted the most.

It was Derek who knew how often he cried, how hard he tried, how tired he got, all the scars on his body, the bruises in his heart, and the deep gashes in his spirit. It’s Derek’s hand that took him away from deep trances, his hand that was always waiting in the middle of the night to ward away the nightmares, his hand that rested on his arm just to tell him there’s always someone there.

It was Derek’s hands that’s always ready to catch him when he’s about to fall.

It was Derek’s hands that cradled his heart, ever ready and watchful and careful, and whose heart had also been offered in turn.

It was Derek’s hand that curled through his hair one night and lifted his chin, lips pressing against his.

_Let me hold you. Let me love you.  
__I could be your small beginning_ _._  
_I could be your ordinary_ _.  
__I could be the one_ _._


End file.
